


A Brief Study on the Expression of Pale Cultural Traditions within the Ashen Quadrant

by confusedTraveler



Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: Ashen Romance | Auspistice, Idiots in Love, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 09:06:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22967428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confusedTraveler/pseuds/confusedTraveler
Summary: In which a trio of idiots attempt to build a pile.
Relationships: Azdaja Knelax/Konyyl Okimaw, Azdaja Knelax/Konyyl Okimaw/MSPA Reader, Azdaja Knelax/MSPA Reader, Konyyl Okimaw/MSPA Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 59





	A Brief Study on the Expression of Pale Cultural Traditions within the Ashen Quadrant

The long and well-established history of the cultural tradition known colloquially as “piling” has been well-documented by Alternian anthropologists. Or the Alternian equivalent of anthropologists, at least. What would they be called? Anthropologorers? Anthropoloppressors?

Either or sounds horrible. What an abysmal state the Alternian STEM fields must be in.

Whatever it is they call themselves, scores of academics across the hemospectrum have written treatises on this tradition, and have subsequently noted that it seems indelibly bound to the pale quadrant. Unlike concupiscent urges, which can be explained on the basis of biological need as well as the actual legal ramifications of not acting on them, the perpetuation of _this_ specific norm is far more complex to consider. One explanation commonly offered is that it relates to a sort of innate predilection towards materialism, as the practice is centrally focused on an accumulation of physical objects. However, this theory is complicated when one considers the intricacies that lie in the act of construction itself, and its communicative functions.

It is well-documented that the construction of piles is variable in its composition re: the proportion of objects belonging to each member of the quadrant. These variations would appear to be intentional, an attempt by the pile’s builder to communicate a specific need or assurance to their quadrantmate. For instance, in cases wherein one quadrantmate fears abandonment and is desperate to repair the relationship, the resulting pile is composed almost entirely of objects belonging to the other quadrantmate, in an attempt to communicate absolute pitifulness.

This is only in extreme cases, however. Variations in the proportion of objects in a typical pile tends to be more dependent on which member of the quadrant requires a greater degree of pacification. Often, this does not even require the construction of a new pile, merely a reshuffling of object arrangement in an existing pile by one of its members in order to accommodate the other. In addition to pile composition, the act of pile-building itself is also a significant aspect of the piling tradition.

A common tradition observed in most newly-quadranted pale couples is the cooperative construction of their first pile. It is hypothesized that this process serves to help the couple better understand what pacifies the other, thus helping to—quite literally— build the foundation of a strong and long-lasting moirallegiance. For whatever reason, this first pile is undeniably a significant factor in ensuring the future of any pale relationship, and, if the outcome is pleasing to both quadrantmates, it is thought to be a telltale sign of serendipity.

However, this is not always so straightforward. In order to fully assess the degree to which pile-building supports and sustains a moirallegiance, we must examine how it operates within those relationships to which the traditional definition of a pale relationship is not applicable, and yet can be seen to contain pale sentiments. Yes, it is the ashen quadrant to which I am referring. Specifically, ashen quadrants in which vacillatory complications are in part caused by pale emotions. In order to gain a better understanding of how the cultural tradition of piling functions when complicated by inter-quadrant emotions, we shall need to examine a real-life example.

The example selected is that of three ashen quadrantmates residing in Outglut, Thrashthrust, currently attempting to build their first pile together. The trio can be summated as follows: a brawny oliveblood girl who seems to be prepared to engage in combat at all times, a wiry goldblood boy who talks like a dubbed 90s anime protagonist, and a small, achromatic alien of unknown origin, who apparently has no qualms about speaking blithely to two trolls who could crush them in a mere instant. It is currently 7:34AM in the morning, and the trio is stood in the shared hive of the former two, all three of them pyjama-clad.

We watch as the oliveblood points in frustration to the half-built pile, specifically, to a small pile of anime figurines right at the top of it. We see the owner of said figurines frown and cross his arms defensively as he makes a biting retort, at which the oliveblood visibly fumes. She explains, once again, this time through gritted teeth, that she is NOT going to lie down on a bunch of DOLLS, especially not dolls holding tiny SWORDS. To which the boy answers that the swords aren’t even _that_ sharp, and besides, didn’t SHE try to add a bunch of forks earlier? To which the oliveblood gnashes her fangs and answers that at least she had the decency not to add them where they could dig into someone’s SPINE, daja.

Sensing yet another breakdown of communication, the auspistice moves to intercept. They remind the goldblood boy, firmly, that if the other was willing to compromise on her additions, then _he_ should be able to, too. What if we kept the figurines, but we put all the sharp accessories and stuff on a shelf over there?

The goldblood hesitates, looks between his quadrantmates—one exasperated, one irked—and acquiesces, carefully and delicately plucking the tiny weapons from his figurines’ hands and painstakingly lining them up on a nearby shelf. The pile-building resumes.

Far too soon, another roadblock is hit. The oliveblood, apparently peckish, opts to add a slab of raw meat to the pile, a decision to which both the others immediately interject. It is 7:49 when the argument is resolved, with the defeated troll girl dragging the meat sullenly back to the thermal hull, leaving a watery pink line across the floor behind her. The goldblood, more of a stickler for cleanliness, expresses dismay at the sight. As we watch, he uses his psionics to seize a scrub pole from the supply closet and quickly swabs away the meat-juices before they can dry on the floor. He uses the same scrub pole to swat at his lover, who yelps at the sudden attack and snaps the scrub pole in two out of pure instinct. This, of course, sparks yet another argument. The alien is seen to look tiredly at the two of them, eyes heavy with exhaustion, and sigh before ambling off to get the duct tape. In such a hive as this, thankfully, it’s in plentiful supply.

We shall now skip ahead to 9:19AM. The pile remains incomplete, the floor around it surrounded by rejected additions. At this point, the only elements that have managed to stay constant through all the edits are an old punching bag, an assortment of old anime and movie DVD cases, and a throw pillow shaped like a fist. Everything else on the pile has been reshuffled multiple times, or is still being debated on.

It’s approaching midmorning now, and the trio quite plainly look to be in need of some rest. However, the pile, in its current state, is clearly not big enough for three.

The extraterrestrial auspistice suggests, quietly, that they just stick to recuperacoons for now (I’ll take the loungeplank, they add), and try this again tomorrow night, okay?

This does not appear to be a satisfying suggestion to either of their ashen partners. The oliveblood crosses her arms and looks sullenly at the mess of items scattered across the floor, idly kicking at a spiked gauntlet near her foot so that it skitters across the floor. The goldblood’s heterochromatic eyes follow its progress. He looks drained, defeated.

Let’s not, he suggests, quietly.

Two heads whip around to stare at him. What? blurts one. WHAT? exclaims the other.

Beneath twin looks of disbelief the goldblood seems to shrink a little, eyes fixed on a point near his feet. When he speaks again, it’s with undeniable guilt. It was a bad idea, anyways, he mutters. I didn’t think it would cause this much discomfort. I’m sorry to have put you two in this position in the first place, it’s all my fau—

His words are cut off by a firm _pap_ right on the mouth. His eyes widen in shock as he takes in his assailant’s expression. The extraterrestrial actually looks _angry_ , perhaps for the first time since he’s known them. Before he can move a muscle, the alien pulls him into a fierce hug.

Don’t say that, he hears them murmur against the side of his neck, the words searing into his skin. _Don’t_ say that.

Two heavy footfalls, and then there’s a second pair of arms wrapped around the both of them, and a pair of lips pressing soft, apologetic kisses to his head. Don’t talk about your feelings like they’re a fucking BURDEN, she growls, right against the base of one of his horns, the sensation sending tremors to his very core. I want them. I want ALL OF THEM. I want YOU.

The goldblood looks as though he’s about to break into pieces. He resists it, at first, blinking rapidly and biting down on his trembling lower lip until he tastes blood. Then a warm palm graces his cheek, and he stops resisting.

At around 9:44AM, the pile looks to be almost complete, a comforting, uneven mass of items both nostalgic and new. And yet, despite the apparent chaos, there is a strange gentleness to its construction. It speaks of compromise, of patience, and of understanding.

However, it’s not quite yet done. The two duelists look to their smaller companion expectantly.

Well? Where’s your stuff? the gold-blooded boy inquires, bluntly.

It seems to take the alien a good minute to process the question. My stuff? they echo, fighting back a yawn as they speak.

Yes, _your_ stuff. For the _pile_.

A few slow blinks from the alien. A blank expression slowly morphing into one of incredulity.

…But I’m just your auspistice? the achromatic individual says, in a tone of disbelief.

A long moment of shocked silence passes.

Then, a sound that shakes the hive to its very foundations—

daja, do they not know theyre DATING US?

* * *

It is now 10:11PM.

The late morning sun falls upon the heavily curtained windows of the Okimaw-Knelax hive. Through the slim gaps between the curtain and the frame, a few thin rays creep through to fall upon three sleeping figures.

Beneath them is the completed pile. Looking upon it now, we see that it now contains several new items—mostly clothing items of various styles and colors, with some other trinkets slipped in as well. Its inhabitants sleep soundly, in a tangled mass of limbs that no doubt will be hell to take apart in the morning but, for now, is completely perfect.

What does this example tell us about the significance of pile-building in non-pale relationships? Perhaps nothing. Perhaps everything! It is still unclear. But for now, we shall leave them to their respite. They’ve had a long morning. They've earned this.

**Author's Note:**

> MSPAR is a clothing hoarder and we all know it.
> 
> I've been wanting to write this for a long time now and decided to use my break from the other fic as an opportunity to write it. I just think they're neat!


End file.
